


Wicked Little Thoughts

by Severina



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Community: lands_of_magic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rumple appears more interested in his ledgers than her, Belle decides to take matters into her own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Little Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Early Season Two. Written for the "lusty month of may" prompt at LJ's lands-of-magic community.
> 
> * * *

Belle enjoys spending time with Rumple in the shop, she truly does. Finding trinkets she remembers from the castle brings back so many memories, but there are only so many times that one can run a cleaning rag over the same items before the novelty begins to wear off. This is especially true when one's True Love is too busy calculating profit margins to pay anything else much attention.

She watches him now, her goal of tidying up forgotten as she lets her gaze roam over Rumplestiltskin's trim form. Fond as she is of the suits of this realm, she finds that she misses the way Rumple's leathers used to cling to his hips and curve enticingly over his rump. She blushes at the thought, remembering all the sleepless nights in her chamber at the castle, her fertile mind eagerly imagining what she would find if she slowly peeled his clothes away from his body. 

Now she doesn't have to imagine, and all the ribald comments she'd overheard through the years suddenly make sense. Now Rumplestiltskin is hers to touch, and she could step up to the counter right now – if she chose – and tug away his tie; work her fingers over the tiny buttons of his shirt; lift her head and lave a path along his neck to his chin and feel the rasp of his late afternoon bristles beneath her tongue. Once the image is in her mind it is impossible to halt its progress, and Belle follows it to its logical conclusion: to clothes strewn across the counter, lips tracing newly discovered trails over bare skin, that rising peak that seems as though it might break her in two with the unrestrained joy of it until finally it crests and she comes crashing down on the other side, breathless and giddy. 

She feels the heat begin to pool in her belly and resolutely sets the cleaning rag aside. Her cheeks feel like they are aflame, but she takes a breath and steps up behind Rumplestiltskin. He shifts a little closer to the counter absently to let her pass, his gaze not lifting from his ledger, and she takes that opportunity to slide her palm boldly over his hip. 

She feels him tense just slightly, his head cocking to the side. "Belle?"

"Hmm," she murmurs. Words don't seem possible, not with thoughts of warm flesh beneath her fingertips so tantalizingly near. A step closer lets her press her breasts into his back, her nipples already hard and aching beneath the thin material of her blouse. She slips her questing hand further around his body, cups him loosely through his trousers.

"Belle?" This time Rumple's voice is barely louder than the squeak of a mouse in the larder. 

She bites her lip before letting her other hand wander to the nape of his neck. She lifts the long strands away from his collar, rises on tiptoe to graze her teeth against his tender skin. She grins mischievously when she feels him shudder and laves her tongue along the spot to soothe the sting, then purses her lips and blows softly at the wet spot. He shivers again, and the sound of the fountain pen dropping from his slack fingers seems very loud in the still of the shop. 

She's not quite sure how to proceed but then Rumple solves that problem, and Belle lets out her own squeak of surprise when he suddenly turns and wraps his hands around her waist, hoisting her around and up onto the counter in one single sweeping move. She giggles helplessly at the show of strength, but her laughter quickly turns to stifled moans when he fastens his lips to her breast and mouths at her through her blouse. Her fingers tighten convulsively in his hair as her head falls back, and she shivers herself when Rumple's nimble fingers begin to work at the pearl buttons on her bodice. Even at her most imaginative she could never have pictured the way her body would react to his touch; the way her breath gets short and her toes curl in her impractical shoes and every brush of his fingertips on her skin elicits a corresponding jolt that seems to snake beneath her skin to her very core. She laughs again, then, even as she arches in response to his warm mouth on her nipple; and though Rumple doesn't stop his ministrations to her breast he lifts his gaze to hers, scrapes his teeth on her sensitive skin and the look he gives her is rife with possibility.

When the ledger crashes to the floor, spilling his important papers everywhere, their eyes meet again. His lips twitch in mirth and she almost joins him, but then his dexterous fingers are creeping beneath her skirt and all thought of merriment slips away when he slides his fingers beneath her panties and parts her slick folds. Her eyelids flutter as her mouth drops open, and her hands clench on his shoulders; her world narrows down to the press of his fingers inside her and the brush of his thumb on the bud of nerves that will soon have her shivering and shaking in his grasp. When his lips once again encircle her nipple she gasps, her limbs seizing as her orgasm takes her by surprise and she is swept away.

When she finally comes back to the present, she pushes a hand through her hair before gazing down at herself – her clothes markedly disheveled, her breasts bare to anyone who might wander in from the street, her breathing heavy, her inner thighs slick with the proof of her lust. She blinks over at Rumple, who still looks as clean and pristine as when he walked in the door of the shop that morning. 

"Feeling better, sweetheart?" he asks smugly.

Belle returns his smirk with one of her own before reaching out to snag his tie and tug him in. She has other wicked little thoughts, after all.


End file.
